The Halfway Point
by Peeves and Ronni
Summary: The Infection finds it's way to Chase, a 21-year-old, and to his horror, he neither becomes infected, or is immune, he's caught between the infected and not, with a Hunter mutation to boot. With help from a few people like him and what few survivors will listen to him, Chase merely plans to survive, but after that, he has no idea.
1. Chapter 1: Half-Infected

The Halfway Point

Chapter 1: Half-Infected

* * *

If Chase had been on top of a building four days ago, he'd be hyperventilating and asking to be brought down.

Now?

He was just hoping that nothing down there could get up here, and he had the sniper rifle to keep that from happening.

Of course, he could always jump to another building, that was also an option, but he was saving that option for when he was out of ammo and actually willing to use his new-found ability to jump like a flea between two one hundred story buildings.

And just as he came to that conclusion, his ammo ran out.

"Perfect," Chase growled and threw the rifle down at the mass of writhing bodies scaling the building, "can I call off getting eaten on defense that I've already been infected?" The bodies kept climbing. "No? Okay that's cool, I always wanted to jump across a city street swarming with zombies, from a hundred stories off the ground." Chase turned to the other end of the building and sunk low to the ground. He didn't like heights, but four days on the street with something trying to kill him at every turn didn't give him much of a choice. Chase sighed and pushed off the ground, sprinting to the edge of the building and leaping off.

And nearly getting shot in the leg by what he assumed was a survivor.

"Shit. Hunter!"

Chase yelped and scrambled away from the ledge and right into an infected that was camping out on the roof, it merely growled at him and returned to watching the survivors below. Chase breathed a sigh of relief, there was some perks to his new life. There were infected that wouldn't hurt him, and to make things a little easier, he could somehow understand them, and they were generally the only ones up on the roof. Chase reached out and tapped the infected on the shoulder cautiously. Before Chase could speak though, some variation of an all too familiar hyperventilated breathing that no infected really liked to hear. The infected grabbed Chase and hid him behind a few stacked crates and blocked Chase from the oncoming infected. Chase peeked out from behind the infected and watched the hysterical creature slink across the roof and disappear into the streets below. When the thing's breathing faded, the infected moved away and scanned the street, finding that his prey had disappeared.

"Sorry," Chase spoke up, unsure if the infected could understand him. The infected let out a low growl, not one of anger though, as if acknowledging that it did understand Chase, and was completely fine with exchanging prey for Chase. That was something Chase didn't quite understand. He'd seen semi-intelligent infected besides the ones on the roofs, but they weren't like these ones. The survivors called them Hunters to Chase's knowledge, and to them, Chase was just one of the pack as it were, just, twice as vulnerable and the rest of the infected wanted to tear him to shreds like a survivor. Hunters were the only ones who did this though, the other intelligent infected didn't, or if they did, Chase wasn't on their list of infected.

Whatever it was that made Hunters consider Chase one of them, Chase didn't want to stick around too long most of the time after encountering one. Chase turned to move for another rooftop. The Hunter turned and growled loudly, stopping Chase in his tracks. It didn't want him to leave the rooftop. Chase turned back to the Hunter and it growled again, this time higher and more frantic. Chase returned to his hiding spot among the crates and the Hunter snorted. Stay.

Chase sighed, perfect, it was ordering him about now.

To be fair, it was probably just trying to protect what it considered part of the pack. Hunters were like hyper-intelligent dogs or wolves, in a way. They protected the pack, but that was it. Anything else was prey, another predator, or in the way. Chase was lucky to be considered "part of the pack."

The door to the roof opened and immediately shut, followed by what sounded like survivors (loudly) debating on whether they wanted to bother with the Hunter on the roof or face the mass of zombies below them. Whether they had chosen or not, the Hunter next to Chase was ready for them to walk out. To be very honest, Chase didn't mind the idea of mauling a few survivors either. After all, they were also shooting at him. Chase shifted onto all fours, the Hunter didn't stop him this time; it was probably just more interested in the survivors.

The door opened slowly and two uninfected stepped out, both holding guns. The Hunter didn't waste time knocking one onto the ground and clawing out the uninfected's innards while the other stared in horror and backed towards the crates Chase was hiding behind. Chase stood and grabbed the second survivor, tossing him onto the ground and landing a claw straight through the survivor. One more change from four days ago: Chase didn't mind killing survivors. They were usually carrying food, and that was one thing Chase needed. He knew other infected needed food, Hunters would scavenge food from kitchens in buildings and he'd been given food before by other Hunters. For the most part, Chase just wanted food and survivors happened to have it, if a survivor died because Chase needed food, oh well at this point, Chase needed it more than a survivor that would be able to find a nice, healthy, safe evacuation area where Chase would be shot on sight.

And as Chase remembered that there was an open door, the Hunter on the roof slammed the door shut and carried over a pack of some kind of dried food, lobbing it at Chase's head and snorting again, it had it's own, this was for Chase. Chase tore open the package and greedily devoured the package, he hadn't eaten that day at all, and it had been a long four days with only occasional meals given by Hunters in passing and stolen from inattentive Smokers and survivors alike. The Hunter waited for Chase to finish eating before taking a package off the one Chase had killed and shoving it into Chase's chest with a rough snarl. Save it.

As much as Chase didn't like being ordered about, he knew it probably had been infected for longer than Chase had. Chase put the package in his hoodie pocket and nodded to the Hunter, which snorted and disappeared over to another roof. Chase decided to part ways with the Hunter here, it had said the equivalent of a goodbye, so it didn't want Chase to follow. At this point, it would be best for Chase to find another roof, which he did.

Unfortunately, the roof was home to what looked like and probably was the bane of everything that was breathing.

A Witch.

Chase backed slowly away from the Witch, it wasn't making a sound, but he could tell he was pissing her off. He'd seen angry Witches before, they glared at whoever was pissing them off and they did not like anyone being close to them. Chase had learned that if there were two red dots staring at you from the shadows, a Witch was pissed at you and you needed to move.

But the Witch didn't attack Chase, it just glared at him. Chase moved closer, lowering the hood over his head, he'd forgotten that it was even on his head in the first place. The Witch didn't look right, the claws were a bit too small, the hair was a bit too dark and the figure wasn't as emaciated as it usually was. Chase's hair stood on end, something was very wrong.

"Okay, great, you figured out I'm not a hundred percent Witch, congrats," the Witch spoke with a sharp tone, "are you going to try to rip my guts out now or do I have to scream for the ladies?"

"You're clear," Chase stepped closer, "I'm not full-on Hunter. So I'm not the only one the infection only sort of affected. Good."

"Wait," the Witch moved from the shadows, "you're not completely infected? Why the hell were you following that Hunter then?" Chase over at the direction the Hunter had disappeared into.

"You haven't seen anyone else like you yet," Chase guessed, "have you?"

"Look, the only infected who haven't decided I was a meal so far are Witches," the Witch stood, "and they don't like other infected, they're solitary. I have no idea what a Hunter would do if I were part Hunter."

"It's hard to explain," Chase shrugged, "but if there's us two, there have to be more, possibly in the city, maybe not."

"Your point?" the Witch raised her eyebrows, "Infected are keen on killing us and so are survivors, it's not like we can go looking for them."

"Have you seen a Witch take on a survivor?" Chase asked, "You're twice as durable as me, can kill a Hunter in one hit and take on a Tank no problem. My only strengths are that Hunters live up to their name."

"Yeah, fast, agile, and too smart for an infected," the Witch spat, "those growls and screams are a language."

"I know."

"So you think finding more partial infected is a good idea?"

"You're in Hunter territory and asking me that?"

"Yes."

"Okay then, yes, I do. Now can I have your name?"

"Viviane."

"I'm calling you Vivi."

"No, you aren't."

"Yes, I am."

"What's your name then?"

"Chase."

"Really?"

"See why I'm calling you Vivi now?"

"No. Stop calling me Vivi."

"No."

A howl-like scream interrupted the argument and Chase shoved Vivi into and alcove.

"Survivors nearby," he muttered.

"How do you know?" Vivi asked.

"Hunters have a language," Chase turned to her, "like you said." Chase perked his ears to the growls and snarls that echoed across the rooftops. "We need to move," he said, "they're close to us and they're leading a horde straight to this building." He held out a hand to Vivi, "Are you with me or not?"

Vivi stared at Chase briefly before taking his hand.

"If we end up dead I'll kill you first."

"I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

_This was a brainwave I got when I remembered that special infected are smarter than common infected and decided that if being immune was possible, then this was like a normal virus and all the same rules applied. Normal viruses also can affect different people in different ways, so this idea surfaced. For the record, Chase and Vivi are still infected, but the virus doesn't show certain symptoms, just like if you have a certain illness, sometimes certain symptoms won't show up. The special infected recognizing half-infected of their mutation as their own is something I just randomly came up with, possibly because I liked the idea of a pack of Momma Hunters taking care of this weird Hunter that speaks like a non-infected._

_The Momma Hunter thing will show up more too, so if you don't like it, oh well._

_I'm out til next chapter._

_-The Jashinist_


	2. Chapter 2: Keith

The Halfway Point

Chapter 2: Keith

* * *

"I know there was a safe house nearby that the Hunters always talk about," Chase scanned the streets below, "one of 'em said if I needed a place to stay that wasn't the roof, the survivors rarely found it, and they rarely got inside anyway. They never did tell me why exactly survivors never made it in but, eh, c'est la vie."

"We haven't left the roof yet Chase," Vivi sighed, "I have a feeling you like being up here with your wolfpack."

"I do, but there is only so much you can do on the rooftops of New York City with a bunch of growling things dressed for parkour who throw you into the nearest hiding spot anytime a Jockey decides to take a midnight climb."

Vivi snorted at that and looked down to the street.

"There are a lot of Smokers over there," Vivi pointed to a group of long-tongued infected swarming around a particular spot, "are they…fighting with a Jockey?"

"And a horde of commons to ice the cake," Chase nodded, "Smokers are territorial right?"

"Yeah," Vivi stood, "why?"

"They're roof-dwellers," Chase jumped up on the edge of the roof then hung off the side, "if they're fighting on street level and there's more than one, something the Jockey wants is in their territory, and they aren't handing it over." Vivi craned her neck to see through the Smokers.

"Injured Smoker," she murmured, "didn't know Smokers were like that." Chase narrowed his eyes and climbed back onto the ledge.

"They're not."

"Then how do you explain them defending one of their own?" Vivi asked.

"A lot of roof-dwellers have good reason to go down to the street level but that is not something a Smoker would do," Chase replied. He jumped up onto the stairwell and let out a piercing scream. The scream was replied to with a series of resounding screams and a chorus of growls and snarls that Chase joined into. When the air went silent, Chase turned to Vivi.

"That Smoker's a recent addition," Chase jumped down, "there's a Hunter a few roofs over who can see the whole thing going down, and this isn't isolated, the Smokers created a barrier all the way down to Central Park, they're angry, they're being defensive, and there's no explanation."

"So your wolfpack is just as confused," Vivi smirked.

"The one near the new Smoker?" Chase pointed to a Smoker with its back turned, "It's holding the new Smoker, but not strangling it, and it's ready to move at any time. This is a combined effort."

"And Smokers don't usually do this?" Vivi asked.

"No," Chase dug through the masses of survivor and infected corpses and retrieved a shotgun and a tattered backpack, "that's a partial infected by my guess, they're protecting the anomaly of themselves. Frankly I wouldn't mess with a Jockey either way, but maybe that's just me." A snarl sounded from behind the stairwell, Vivi froze.

"Okay, yeah, sorry," Chase motioned for Vivi to calm down, "addendum, most Hunters do not mess with Witches, even if they aren't completely infected. I think you know why most infected avoid Witches like the plague."

"I really don't," Vivi shrugged.

"You need to bitch slap a Tank or something," Chase rolled his eyes, "how long have you been infected?"

"A week."

"I'd like to submit a formal thank you to the wolfpack," Chase yelled to the Hunter behind the stairwell, which growled lightly, like it was purring.

"Please say that was a happy Hunter growl," Vivi backed away from the stairwell, "I really don't want to be pounced on."

"It was saying you're welcome," Chase shot Vivi an exasperated look, "didn't I just say Hunters don't mess with Witches? That's literally one hit and you're dead."

"Then why do common attack me?"

"Because common are stupid Vivi."

"Don't call me that."

"Viviane takes too long to say."

Vivi bared her teeth before another scream filled the air. Chase turned and looked down the street.

"How good are you at fighting?" he asked, seeing a Tank barreling down the street at the Smoker barricade.

"Why?" Vivi looked down the street from behind Chase, "oh." Chase nodded and rifled around the pile of crates nearby, pulling out a baseball bat after a few seconds.

"I'll try to get on its back and slow it down if you can get down there and keep from getting eaten long enough to knock its stupid undersized head off…is that a person?"

"That's why a Tank is ready to kill something," Vivi hopped onto the fire escape, "gimme the baseball bat, this idiot's getting his ass saved." Chase tossed Vivi the baseball bat and watched the person run past before jumping onto the Tank as it passed. The tank roared in frustration and rammed its back into a wall, nearly crushing Chase between the mass of flesh and the bricks. The person slowed and turned back to Chase as Vivi passed him, using the baseball bat to decapitate any common that came within range to slam in the face. Chase dug his claws into the thick muscle on the Tank's shoulders and pulled it towards Vivi. Vivi swung the bat at the Tank's head and knocked it clean off, sending it flying off to another roof. Chase attempted to pull his claws out as the Tank collapsed and found they were stuck. The Tank's corpse hit the ground with a shaking thud and Chase began to struggle with the shoulder muscles holding him in place.

"Help!" he yelled, "claws got stuck in the behemoth's wall of flesh." Vivi rolled her eyes and helped Chase yank his claws out of the corpse's shoulders. That issue taken care of, Vivi took her bat and walked over to the Smoker barricade as Chase turned to the object of the Tank's fury, who had managed to take out what remained of the horde Vivi had mostly decimated with nothing more than a baseball bat. She'd gotten acclimated to her strength rather quickly, for never having used it before.

"Are you fucking stupid?" he asked, pointing to the Tank's body as he approached the survivor, "You know how fucking easy it is to get killed by one of those things?"

"Look I just walked past it," the survivor insisted, not convincing Chase.

"Yeah, throwing a rock?" Chase growled, "Do you know how much damage those things cause without you pissing it off?"

"Eh…it was actually a Molotov…" the survivor began, but Chase cut him off.

"That's even worse than a rock!"

"Okay I'm sorry!" the survivor shook his head, "Never thought I'd see the day where a Hunter scolds me on my life choices."

"You threw a Molotov at a Tank," Chase crossed his arms, "at this point you're just really lucky mixed with really fucking stupid."

"He did what?" Vivi asked, walking up with an infected beside her, "Logan, Chase. Chase, Logan. Logan, Imbecile." The infected snorted with laughter, letting out a small cloud of smoke.

"You got the partial infected?" Chase asked, "Where's the tongue?" Logan opened his mouth and stuck out his greyish tongue, which stretched out as he let it fall from his mouth. Chase nodded and Logan retracted his tongue.

"Hey my name ain't Imbecile!" the survivor yelled.

"No one cares," Vivi said, "and yes, the Smokers kind of retreated and I knocked the Jockey into the apartment building across the way. Pretty sure I also sliced a hole through it too."

"Can we rewind and catch me up?" the survivor asked.

"Go away Imbecile," Chase rolled his eyes.

"My name is Keith," the survivor spat, "and I ain't leavin'. Not until I know why three infected are talkin' like normal people." Vivi sighed and looked to Chase.

"Safe room first," Chase said firmly, "we'll talk about the talking infected later. Actually, can Logan even speak?"

"Yes," Logan said with a raspy voice, "the tongue doesn't really get in the way unless it's fully extended.

A scream sounded and something hit the back of Chase's head, hard. Chase turned around to find a stack of guns tied with rope at his feet. Chase looked up to a Hunter perched on the roof above.

"Thank you!" Chase called. The Hunter snorted in reply. Chase picked up the rope holding the guns and looked back up at the Hunter. The Hunter growled as soon as Chase opened his mouth to speak.

"What's he saying?" Vivi asked.

"He's been infected too long," Chase replied, "he can't understand anything but Hunter language. Imbecile?"

"Keith."

"I'm going to freak you out for a few seconds, you good?"

"What?"

Chase ignored Keith and let out a low, throaty growl. The Hunter replied and they went back and forth until the Hunter disappeared over the ledge and Chase turned back to the group.

"The safe room is in there," Chase pointed towards a building nearby, "We'll need to ward off a few commons to get in. That Hunter is getting us food and supplies because currently, I have nothing but a pack of beef jerky in my pocket and that Hunter knows where a Costco is nearby."

"How you got that out of six different variations of the same growl is astounding," Vivi rested the baseball bat on her shoulder.

"So, Imbecile," Chase turned to Keith, ignoring Vivi's comment.

"Keith."

"We can get you to an evacuation site if you can stop being an idiot and throwing Molotov cocktails at Tanks. Think you can do that?"

"Probably."

"Good," Chase pulled a pistol from the stack of guns and shot an oncoming common, "now let's get to that safe room and then figure out how knee deep in shit we are."

* * *

_After much deliberation with a friend (as in I suggested it and we both thought it would be perfect), we decided that the fourth member of the group, whom I hadn't decided on yet, would be Keith, because I figured he'd still be alive and still be doing all his incredibly stupid things, even in this zombie apocalypse environment, and somehow surviving. So that's the end of that story. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favorited so far._

_I'm out._

_-The Jashinist_


	3. Chapter 3: The Plan

The Halfway Point

Chapter 3: Plans

* * *

Chase was tired of explaining things to people, especially Keith. There was also the fact that Keith kept repeating the words "I can't wait to tell Ellis about this," every six seconds.

"Could you do me a favor Keith?" Vivi said loudly, as tired of Keith as everyone else in the room, "Stop talking about your buddy Ellis, I'm pretty sure he doesn't talk about you this much."

"I'll betcha he does," Keith argued, "so where are we headed anyway?"

"There's a boat runner down South who could help us," Logan chimed in, "we'd need to be able to get to the Mississippi to hitch a ride with him."

"I ain't going back down south," Keith said firmly, "last time I was down there it was a madhouse."

"You're in god-fucking-damn Manhattan Keith," Chase snapped, "this is a madhouse even if it isn't filled with infected." Keith shrugged at this and nodded.

"We're going down?" Vivi guessed. There was clawing at the door. Chase opened it to find four packed backpacks with a Hunter crouched in front of them, a different on than last time. It growled to indicate that it could understand human language.

"How long will it last?" Chase asked. The Hunter traced four lines in the sand and let out a low growl. Chase thanked the Hunter in its own language and took the bags into the safe room.

"Four days," he said, "that should last us to Philly. We can restock there and we'll get to the Mississippi within at least three weeks. Walking anyway."

"We could always head down to Savannah," Keith suggested, "I know my way from there."

"Did you come up here from Savannah?" Chase asked.

"Yeah."

"How bad is it there?"

"Pretty bad."

"Then why the flying fuck are you suggesting we go there?"

"Cuz I know my way from there."

"Oh my god, I don't think I've ever met someone this goddamn stupid before."

"Hey I ain't stupid!"

"Kid," Logan cut in, "if you're not stupid, why would you want to go back to Savannah?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to get somewhere if you were with someone who knew where they were goin'?" Keith reasoned. Logan shrugged and looked to Chase.

"He's got me there," he said bluntly.

"How much longer would that take?" Vivi asked.

"Maybe an extra week," Chase sighed, "on the bright side, a pit-stop in Savannah might make things easier for us."

"How so?" Vivi asked.

"If we happen to find survivors," Chase looked to Vivi, "we can leave Keith with them and high tail it back up to Manhattan."

"So you're agreeing on grounds that you might be rid of him faster," Logan chuckled, "you're horrible." Chase shoved a backpack into Logan's arms.

"I grew up in the inner city," Chase snapped, "You learn some nasty lessons really quickly." Vivi crossed her arms and looked to the other door.

"We should wait for it to get light out," she said, "Witches are easier to deal with during the daytime."

"I agree," Chase nodded, "and Keith?"

"Yeah?"

"Keep. Your mouth. Shut."

"Can I ask one more question?"

"What?"

"Where are y'all from anyways?" Keith asked, "I mean, I'm from Savannah. Y'all know that already."

"Bronx," Chase rolled his shoulders, "well, technically, Columbia University because that's where I was going to school but, y'know."

"Staten Island," Vivi replied, "how did a kid from the Bronx get into an Ivy League?"

"I'm smart," Chase shrugged, "fuck if I know."

"Looks like I'm from the furthest North," Logan smiled slightly, "Toronto."

"You're from Canada?" Chase smirked.

"I will not say sorry every five seconds," Logan growled, "ask me to and I'm liable to hit you with Vivi's baseball bat."

Vivi groaned at the repeat of her despised nickname, kicking the fortified door, leaving a small dent in the metal. Chase smirked and threw his hood back over his head.

"Told ya Viviane was too long," he teased.

"That hood looks stupid," she spat.

"Do not dis the hood."

"Hush up both of you," Logan scolded, "get some rest, we have a long way to go tomorrow, and I for one haven't seen a safe house since Syracuse." Vivi immediately buried herself under the nearby table and threw the flannel tied around her waist over her head.

"Wake me up and I will knock your fucking head off," she hissed. Keith flopped down in a corner and Logan joined, finding a blanket to cover them both. Chase curled up on the table and slowly shut his eyes.

* * *

_Short chapter, but I needed just a run-down on what's happening for the next tons of chapters. There is some hint here to personality and stuff._

_I'll get another chapter out as soon as I can._

_-The Jashinist._


	4. Chapter 4: Heading Out

The Halfway Point

Chapter 4: Heading Out

* * *

Chase opened the door slowly, holding a gun tentatively out in front of him. When he was sure the coast was clear, he moved from the door and the others filed out behind him.

"Rechecking you guys didn't give the dipshit a Molotov," Vivi twirled her bat lightly in her fingers. Keith glared at her.

"I ain't got any, thanks fer askin'," he said.

"Good, good," Vivi nodded, "last thing we need is another pissed off Tank." Vivi swung her bat at an oncoming infected, slicing it clean in half.

"We've got some kiddies coming towards us," Chase smirked, "good." Keith fired his shotgun at another zombie with a loud bang.

"You had to pick the loudest gun," Chase sighed, firing at a small horde scrambling towards the group at top speed. Vivi looked at the horde and looked at Logan.

"We had to take the imbecile with," she muttered before running headlong into the horde and knocking off zombie heads left and right before she slammed her bat into a Charger and the bat snapped clean in half. Vivi looked at the splintered stub of her bat and then at the other end of the bat, which had buried itself into the head of an infected. She turned back to the now enraged Charger and managed to ram the last of the bat into its head before sprinting out of the horde and diving into the safe room. Chase pocketed his gun and shot forward, knocking down zombies and tearing out their purplish innards before leaping to one three yards away from his last target and on to the next. Vivi returned holding an axe in her hand and slamming it into the nearest infected full-force, splitting it clean in half. Slowly but surely, the mass of zombies thinned out, those that remained were picked off by Logan and Keith.

"How sharp are those claws anyway Chase?" Keith asked, lowering his shotgun as the horde ceased.

"Sharp," Chase plucked a purplish liver from a split cavity and tossed it at Keith, "catch." Keith jumped out of the way of the bloody organ and pulled a face.

"Man, that ain't right!" he yelled, "Don't throw no gross-ass infected shit at me."

"That was a liver," Chase sighed, "and I _am_ infected Keith. Thanks for being so nice and accepting."

"Yer infected in different way though," Keith argued, "you ain't…tryin' to kill me."

"Logan's the only one who hasn't killed a survivor," Vivi turned to Keith, "because until recently, he was one."

"That don't mean y'all are gonna kill me right?" Keith asked cautiously.

"We won't kill you," Chase replied, walking over to Vivi and slapping her upside the head, "because you didn't point a gun at us, nor did you have food." Logan looked ahead to where they were headed.

"It's a long fight to Savannah," he interrupted the remainder of the group, "if we stop after every horde, we won't get anywhere. It takes three weeks to get to the safe zones along the Mississippi, not taking out time after getting picked up by Virgil or if we happen to find a car or something. We can stop at safe rooms along the way, but no lolly-gagging."

"Did he just say lolly-gagging?" Vivi whispered to Chase, "Like my dad used to?"

"Vivi," Logan looked up at the young woman, "I'm thirty-five." Vivi turned and gaped at Logan for a good ten minutes.

"But you look…so young!" she said far too loudly. Chase clapped his hand over Vivi's mouth.

"Don't be so loud," Chase hissed. As if to echo Chase's warning, the screaming growling din that is the horde came towards them slowly.

"Aw hell naw," Keith groaned at the oncoming group, sighting a second Tank in the midst of the horde.

"Good job Vivi," Chase lowered his hand, "I'm not jumping on it this time." Vivi growled and held up her ax as if to threaten Chase.

"The Tank is more important than Chase," Logan cut in, "go kill the Tank, not Chase. He's the smartest one in this group right now."

"I ain't stupid!" Keith raised his voice. To interrupt the argument, the Tank roared in anger and threw a huge car their way. Chase jumped out of the way and Vivi stopped the car with her hands.

"If you're not stupid," Chase fired at the nearest zombie, "shoot the goddamn bitch-ass Tank!" Keith began firing at the Tank as quickly as he could with a shotgun, while Vivi dove into the crowd to decapitate more zombies.

"I ain't never seen one person behead that many zombies in a minute," Keith said.

"You don't want me to reply to that," Chase shook his head, still firing at the Tank, "you just don't."

"Thank you," Logan sighed, "for that image."

"Welcome," Chase flashed a smile and continued shooting until the Tank came crashing to the ground. When the horde began to thin, Chase began to run through it, looking for a safe room among the buildings.

"There's a safe room over here!" he screamed from a few blocks down the road, attracting the attention of the remainder of the horde, as well as a second horde down the street. As he did, he froze, seeing something in the room.

"Way to attract more work Chase!" Vivi screamed, hurling the ax blade at the nearest zombie. Chase gave no reply.

"Yer kiddin'," Keith fired again, "and y'all were callin' me stupid."

"JOCKEY!" Vivi bellowed sighting the aforementioned creature on the rooftops. Logan looked up and began firing at it.

"Chase!" he yelled, beginning to run through the horde towards Chase. Chase turned to Logan, frozen in place, and eyes wide with terror. The Jockey jumped forward and latched onto Chase, shoving him forward. Chase yelped and stumbled forward, out of the group's view. A screech emerged from the place Chase and the Jockey had disappeared into. Chase bolted onto the street with the Jockey in pursuit, along with a very angry Witch.

"God fucking dammit Chase," Logan sighed. Chase responded with a loud scream.

"What'd he just say?" Keith asked frantically.

"Do I look like I speak Hunter?" Logan asked, firing at the Witch advancing towards the two almost at the same pace as Chase.

"Hey bitch!" Keith screamed, throwing something brown and possibly on fire over Chase's head and at the Witch.

"Who gave him a Molotov?" Chase screamed, barely dodging the sea of flames that erupted around the Witch, catching the Witch and the Jockey on fire.

"I had it the whole time," Keith smiled triumphantly, "y'all just didn't think to pat me down." The Witch screamed and ran past Chase, going for Keith now. The still aflame Jockey took this opportunity to leap right back onto Chase and pull him away by his hair, igniting him as well. Chase screamed again, this time louder and angrier than before. The Jockey slammed Chase into a wall and pushed off of Chase's back, slashing Chase's side as it did. The flames slowly died off from Chase's back. Chase collapsed to the ground, being caught by a Hunter that had come by, probably hearing Chase's screams. Keith stood shakily, looking down at the now dead Witch in front of him as Vivi carefully approached the Hunter, ax at the ready. The Hunter turned to Vivi and growled a low warning growl, as if telling them to go away. Vivi backed up and poised ready to swing. The Hunter growled again. Vivi turned around to see the Jockey slowly approaching.

The Jockey backed away and disappeared down the street as soon as Vivi turned around. The Hunter straightened up and began dragging Chase's limp body away. Vivi stepped forward, still ready to swing.

"Give him back," she ordered. The Hunter growled in response and lifted Chase onto its shoulder. It began climbing a nearby building, growling again when it reached the top. Vivi stared up at the building as more Hunters emerged over the side of the building, each growling in a tone that sent the same message to the three below.

Stay away.

"Well shit," Keith looked up at the roof, "the whole family's here. And they ain't happy to see us."

"They're not mad," Logan swung his gun to his shoulder and looked up at the pack, "but if we keep trying to get Chase from them they might get mad. He found a safe room over there. Let's wait there and see if the Hunters will let him go once he's awake." Vivi lowered her ax and turned to the safe room.

"This feels wrong," she said, "he was the one who found it." Keith walked into the safe room and paused at the dead body on the floor as the other two entered.

"He ain't the only one to pay the price."

* * *

_The Momma Hunters return for their baby! Yeah it's hard to explain really how I conceptualized the special infected's view towards their own, but I mostly see it like this: Witches are like spiders, they don't like anyone, even their own kind, bothering them, they're territorial, and mean. Smokers are like a pride of lions, they're independent, but they share territory and defend it from enemies. Jockeys are like hyenas, they don't like anyone and piss off all the other special infected. Tanks are like gorillas if every gorilla were a silverback, big, territorial, and mean. Boomers are kind of heard to compare to anything but they're solitary. Chargers are the same as Tanks. Hunters are like wolves, protective of their own kind, but there is still a pecking order, the territory is still there, and they still defend it, but the pack is more important than the land they live on._

_That's how I see it and that's kind of why I have the whole Momma Hunters concept. This is also to show that it isn't just for convenience or humor, it is literally how Chase is still alive._


End file.
